Dim vales—and shadowy floods—
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can’t discover
For the tears that drip all over
Huge moons there wax and wane—
Again—again—again—
Every moment of the night—
Forever changing places—
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down—still down—and down
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain’s eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be—
O’er the strange woods—o’er the sea—
Over spirits on the wing—
Over every drowsy thing—
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light—
And then, how deep!—O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like—almost any thing—
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before—
Videlicet a tent—
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies,
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again
(Never-contented thing!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.

because chances are, you haven't heard it
before, i know, in either case
not to my liking either -
but then the olympic flame was passed
between a thousand interlocking legs
that ran from one centre of the games
being celebrated, and onto another -
and if there were aquatic obstructions
along the way, the baton was still allowed
to run, on a ship, in circles, before landing
and unwound, allowed a straight line
once more - not straight in the strict
geometric sense, obviously zigzagging -
but let's say i found cross-generational points,
in each generation there are cross-generational
interests - should my own produce very little,
or of little interests, there's a back-catalogue
to delve into - who'd imagine the youth could
never die like that - but intact - even though
some could be asserted as being ancient -
a revision of their work years later only made
them however the revision was to understand it -
and yes, links, under a million and the chances
are you haven't, haven't heard it, you yet to be
a cross-generational - cronquist stick-seeds might
describe the writers born in the 1910s - and say
a rebellion against Wordsworth took pace -
or some other rebellion, or even an appropriation -
you have those from the 1980s too, minding
the literary output from the 1960s, anticipating a
future, a splinter group of hopefuls anticipating
something more - unlike in the current state of affairs,
where no longer the old moaning and groaning
cuckoo cranks - our's, youth's cultural arthritis -
we too complain, scaled to the nanometres of
metaphysics - our spiritual health has been dampened,
and if the timing was anything, although in agreement
it was: canto LXXXV - rock drill, well a drill assuredly,
a burning that implants a windy vacuum of gravity,
cf. (conferre, i.e. - id est - compare) with an article
in the style magazine (every sunday, religiosity of
newspapers, a weekly event, much anticipated) -
the article in question? generation viz / not to
be confused with viz. (videlicet - namely, that is to say),
rather generation viz as visual, a visual generation,
visuals only, censor all ****** words and have as much
******* and gore as you like, the offensive
u                c                  k               from fathering an oath,
so generation vista print, vista (the all pleasing generation),
no drink, no drugs, aloe vera water and cucumber
extracts - generation squeak - squeaky clean -
mother's failed rebel - generation mind the gap -
it's no longer a stoner, a mary and juan dipper -
'yeah man, far out...'
                                worse, it culminated in post-language,
and due to lack of intoxication, it's supposedly
serious... well... by god it is serious - post-language
is akin to a venture into the unknown acronyms -
acronyms and emotive chinese of :( -
the lesser form of computer coding - the tip of the
iceberg as they say - a champagne bottle splits
in the ratio 1:10 - that's one bottle and ten mouths -
during london fashion week also called an entrée,
in russia it's called a canapé - ah but the sober
eye that can explore further afield rather than raw
memoriam dimmed slightly - a rattler of cigarette
packets - more caffeine less gasoline -
and so, i too a hackelia nervosa, clingy to the past
in some way or other, not to mention attempting
an enticement to my palette - a storage room,
just there, lost & found - umbrellas, books and
other memorabilia - should any claimant come,
it's, just, there.

Here 'I’ am, at ‘this’ place in time at ‘this’ posited location.
Here ‘I’ write, at ‘this’ time; ‘this’ time is ‘Now’, but what is ‘Now’, and what do I mean when I say ‘Now’?
Did I say ‘Now’ now or after the ‘Now’?, videlicet is ‘Now’ after the ‘before’ or before the ‘after’?
If today was tomorrow and tomorrow was yesterday
Where would I be 'Now'?
As Hegel would say:
"Now is a plurality of 'Now'"

Perhaps then it was 'He' who suggested that we just go with the flow of things and live for the moment.
'O sense-certainty... you make me smile...

Blacker than the kohl of her eyeliner is the state of her soul
She lives in that darkness perennially but it's getting old
She’s tired of carrying the weight of her world but not done fighting
Trying with the strength of five thousand mother *******
Trying, fighting, carrying what was given to her by DNfuckingA
She pleads for succor,
But always;
“There’s a void that the boys can’t fill, the tipping of the bottle or the popping of the pill”
And she’s feeling the urge to regurgitate the bile created by swallowing one too many tears over a few too many years
Some nights when she lets the salt roll, functioning gets too hard to breathe...
She knows that “loving somebody won’t make them love you” but she loves away
Works towards the proverbial brighter day, struggles for the right words to say:
“I’d let you be my everything”
She knows she should be her own One and Only
If only the mirror didn’t leave her so lonely
But she’s a plain girl who knows too much cowardice and not enough self-respect
If you saw her you might detect some self-neglect
Or not
But you can bet she’ll lift others like gods
She’ll believe in the few and far between against significant odds,
Pray for strength, guidance and grace,
Keep trying, fighting, carrying hope for something to fill that empty space
And above all (if you let her)
She’ll love you better than you’ve ever known
But first her little figure will have to spurn itself until it learns what she truly needs
Videlicet, to love the garden of herself beyond its copious weeds

titles are clickt attention tuners, seek weak
- signal feint clicks and shush and beepx#$%

etaoin shrdlu - typesetter's apprentices shoveled
off cast lead type, using coal shovels, strong
Allie Oop characters - the medium of us,
we saw our selves in print on newsprint.

Öotzi, myceleum aware bearer of information,
fallen through time, to leave us thinking, how
hard has life been, upto now
.
Weirdly wise, the ever sense we can remember,
strengthening positions holding
satisfied minds, valencing
made common sense,
happy and free is better
than any other degree
of happy, free as a ***
in L.A. on Fourth Street, hip
to the Four Square ******* Mission,
east of Broadway, north of Central Market…

then, to now, fifty years,
then to my first child, was ten years,

now, my youngest granddaughters are turning ten,
and taking part in the ongoing recovery of all clean

thinking, sifted corn and sorted beans, dried seeds
from the sweetest watermelon contest, and best
squash for bottles. best for bowls, all good seed
we save for next year, every year, always

remember, once nobody knew anything,
but making better ways to stop hunger,

then war was one of the ways that worked
for winners, and for some survivors not involved,

but witnessing the scavenging, paid trade goods
for trophies taken from the putrid dead, before
the story tellers and tale bearers went their
separate ways, letting the news be as it may.

The medium we live and breathe in, now as living
text included by all faith's accounting systems,
whereby our very thoughts and intentions,
must be judged, very serious conscience,
book of life including metadata
and instance of idle word and waste time,
pure and mere psyence psighing consci-uses
ready and willing to let peace be made,
fixing firm foundations at each watering station,
corner stones and local quarrymen, towns

formed from prosperity on rails, full on wha-who
time flies past right now

progressive proof, a town like ours is now classic,
project mainstreet 2025, valenced on Main Street,
moral authority of the old town councils,
social servants steeped in social ordering craft,

The Stepford Wives, Ai all love that, and Lucy,
ai ai ai, so many, Frankenstein, and the fat forties,
coders living in freemind anarchical choice, like bugs.
ARPAnet spiders rode wireless before wireless was,
MAGA. Pre-Levittown Craftsman Homes,
from Sears, delivered t
o the rail head, lo, a hundred years ago,

and now, the whole cold world, is empty,
when we see it on TV, from L.A. on a Sally Ann
Chromebook with a Starbucks Loyalty Cookie,
allowing T-1 bandwidth, yeah,

accept

Most of modernity is permanent,
only now is better because to get here,

one stepping, one daying, one time on
a magic loom, as a thread, picking up motes
so fine, super fine dust twisted in during dying

so the colors feel inviting, come find how
we pass the bar, where judgement begins,

we give account down to those secrets held
in our core experience knowings used, amateur

first times are only chances more often than not,
never know, when a particular stream meanders,

how many times does one cross the river
of no return, and see Robert Mitchum and
Jane Russell, on a raft with a kid thinking
something's not right,…

There was no upriver going on a raft,
we knew that from time with Huck'n'Jim,

back before the nth degree insanity hit,
minority reports, pulled from trend bots,

you'd best believe believe's a verb,
and love is, too, so do it, love to learn,

no lie holds any truth, never did, never
was a time when a lie that saved a life,
lost otherwise, that essential untellable
whys
secret agent man mind set from TV,
YouTube views virally sort attentions…

spin casting, bait perceiving, front face
sensory array, bad boy squint, tight smile,
mere hint of amusement, thinking, something

Blockbuster was a thing, things changed,
vhs hold hordes of reflected light transcended
on to magnetic tape with short fidelity,
for high fidelity consumer camcorders

the time from technicolor to home video,
in my generation, effectively raising the bar

as far as production standards used in the ruse,
set all skepticism aside, unloose your credulous

child like soul, tender child self, so good, too bad
good does not pay, save to those initiated in the art

of freereading and writing things hearable, listen,
nothing, eh? No white noise, fans, transformers,
no chainsaws,
with that whine
of a Stihl Dylan loved, once repaired
by a chronicle entity, who worked
at that chainsaw shop, at that time,
and knew the music of a Stihl,
so he would notice the quiet, then,
- chain broke…
wind in trees, pine soft, crickets and frogs,
and sometimes a bat, even coyotes, way off
as the world spins toward tomorrow again.

Who told you you gotta serve some body?
What would you do if the truth made you free?

Where would it be if this were the answer?

When you pray, expect the consequences,
immediately after you know the law,
the law is canceled, all a major lie,
for ever sense manstealing paid.

Train up a child by his stature at two,
he becomes a useful servant, worthy
of great honor on the field of glory,
as our side celebrates hate, pushing back
harder, pushemback harder, break that line

High jinx, glory years, sacred first to learn,
programing is mostly balance weights
and measures, cost to do, cost to undo.
Cost to think it done, without me.

What is the genre for periods
of preparation for a redo of an old war,

a political-religious agreement
under which business is conducted,
continuously as the believers multiply,
as believing children are reared to leave
being the why for the orders how come

we need to work to fix the flaw in us all
for the all mighty, all merciful?

How, indeed, did it come to pass,
that those in fine conditions,
gilded and bejeweled boxes
of old bones and napkins and shards of alabaster,
said
certainly the very anointing for burial alabaster box,
got t' be, right, just waiting for your guide to find,

very precious, only six other fragments have been
made publically known, the power, the faith sink,
like a battery, believe it or not, the pitch in faith,
hold, sticky, used
has moved a mountain of alabaster chips,
since we started doing tours with the kids,

we pay a different one each time, seven lads,
sons of those three sisters, who inherited the box,
and fought about it until the peace maker was called,
he broke it all down,
free, Google Voice to Verizon, across eight time zones,
like we are in the same room, but day and night,

anyway, peace maker, old backslider hardened artist,
living on tech time earned on a bet about ever learning,
gets a bit in each fractal shard of that old anointing
on and on, some times, good grows, and corruption,
proceeds to gain U, the mind meld experience,

a Taylor Swift Opera from the Future NOW!

Yeah, I know a guy, in the works, managing
the spending opportunities, keeping juices
works with concentrates, original intensity,
all mental, leg-al legal regally legal
just a touch,
a taste,
fact of the ruliad, once conceived and comprehended,
wind in the face, gasp and wish it were, as we may
say we can imagine, using an ego function, I-magi,
- how wide are we sideways? As a we?
Grown up, and dementia free, just think it clear
as one of those movie eternity porches, stoical
pillars of wisemen not forgotten, ai know them,

as curious boys knew their teachers, ai know Plato,
big lunk, broad beam ox of a man, with a following,

amanuensis scribal trainees, hanging on every word,

now, in modern database solutions to 640K sort fields,
we adapt the magic fractalling praxis used to shatter,
viz, first license to say, videlicet,
the afore mentioned alabaster box, empty
of its storied ointment for the burial to be,
shattered at the tone, 60 cycle hummm,
ordinarily out of sync, if you think about it, but
we need not, it was so long ago, and you know,

abide is a positioning command from a will,
abide with me is a request, however saying we,
abide with ye forever, if I were in the whosoever.
I would think the thoughts alive, at least.
The whosoever who heard the knocking,
and said, sure, I heard you knocking and said
to myself, what if this once it was you, and wow,

I must admit,
in the ruliad realm
of possibility, the math works.




All boys in those days, idly sayd
that'll be the day, guy like me
wished to be like in the movies, in
the gang, singing cowboys on the range,

eeipee ai yay, real old, cast iron men
made in the imaginations of those,
made to pay alliegiant attention,
mandatory civics classes, and
current events, sponsored
by Breck, and eventually
only her hair dresser knew…

until from nowhere, the world blooms
with silver foxes far beyond compare,

since she was just seventeen, and we knew
what that means in Arizona, so we waited,
too, long, who knows,
we got a new mind,

the act of worship, the verb, knowing,
it does seem simple at first, lieving be. Okeh.

In my time, I learned of wasted prosperity,
wasted production,
time spent destroying unsold goods.

All we were saying, we say as well once more,
give peace a chance, we all were dissuaded,
we all were led to this, we followed… we all did,
none among the numbers related to my mito mom,
knew how far mortals can see using knowledge,
the stuff in the Platonic form of science,
the tree, and all the fruit of the tree
which is in itself, ipsa sapientia

from former time,
I learn of earning daily bread
I learn of waking ready as known
I learn of patterns proving order
I learn of the flickt wrist whip act

Crack the whip. eh, knack is not knowing
how  it happens, knack is knowing
how to make it happen, knowing the effect
-- shh specter of spinoza- snap
pay attention, this is amusement, not folly,
affectionally called the crack of the whip,
or finger and thumb,
hear it, not feel it, know it means, quiet
listen
-crack of the bat

snaps the ear of any near enough to hear it,
and know that is not the sound
of a cat correcting a sailor's needless will,
breaking the boy, oh, yeah,
we seen it done, on TV,
we seen the boss punish the shirker,
we seen the pioneers take son's
to the woodshed,

rod for back of the fool,
whip to call attention to the snap, look up,
stand straight, and tall, upright,

faulter, find mine, whip me into shipshape,
saint's and land's sakes alive
all ye truth teller alliegiance pledgers,
be ready to face all the reasons war holds.

The commit-ed-tee, apart from any we, I'm in.
Mittere, carry the signal, be gone,
as we say, so be it,
amen,
launching prayers for fulfillment of our
godgiven heart's desires, yessirree

the history of our current we, the people
of earth, cognosticators of the cloud of all books,
articles, poems, songs, blogs, and posted memes;
-all searchable to original con-text captured expression.
So, that all being true,
it seems, we are the aftermath of all before now,
today, while it is called Hueta, or whatever, this time
between sunsets,
whiling away - amusing my minds imaginary board
of advisors, it is permissible to say, videlicet, viz.

the rule of law, is fulfilled
in that which truth
makes free, as free can be,
on the only one choice planet,
when it comes to living like a mankind creature.
- all who read these words can, that is special
Common gnosis, letters form words we all read.

Let letters serve as sounds, silently singing to you,
I am a ware, a functioning self-forming will to be,
a thought, or a wish, or a prayer,
come be, being seen
as that which lets until it be taken
out of the way.

Posited points. {the box of all gods thoughts}
Laws of the Medes and Persians, oaths to truth.

Mighy men of valour and reknown, completely
known, first error of the mother, secured by a god.

Then there were the promises, all the desires
in the heart of our kind, available in story form,
since ever ago, in the beginning,

we made words, letters let us know, with music,
whistles and cracks, and snaps, and claps, and stomps.

LOUD likka lightning sound, some three claps ago,

Boom come a roaring down the canyon,
echoing off my walled in self, hermit me,
ever learning, never coming to the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth,
so help me God,
' assume you are in my taxonomy, then
assume we have relegated the affects of tehkne
in extending our vision in to the imagined realms

we have seen the insides of our bodies, our own,
heart's pulse, our own colon's polyps, stripped
of flora and fauna, for the procedure.

We know oh so, oso, a bear totem load, more
than any super position non universal intelligence,
among the elohim, the plurality of spirit beings,
mentioned in the beginning
of the part of this story with this story in it.

---------- I always wished to be a writer,
but, I knew, I wasn't, really, I knew,
and then I became what I was at my core,
you know, a life unlived, is not worth the exam fee.
So, it stood to reason with me, that truth,
known makes free the use of that known,

no lie makes truth, it finds truth and twists it,
much as men find flax and form from that linen,
and from linen spin near everlong thread,
from distaff to spindle, a line,
on another, each
make a reason to wonder, shine it in the sunlit
spider kite, gleaming reason to wonder, how
anybody ever learned to make priests garments,
on contract, I mean,
somebody makes the uniforms to signal symbios-us,
we who let letters be taken out of the way
and we listen to the thinking thought way

to go
slow
jell-o air, breathe and find template con fi
density commonly sensed as we

like on TV, those people, on all the channels,
even YouTubers, et al, okeh, we
are who we imagine we are
as seen on TV, but mmm some of us read,

and we cheat,
we let go the letters on the page,
bookshelves stuffed backdrop
to signify power and authority to make right use
of all the potential
attained with a little will to access the actual science
in our collective unconscience, yes, happy

state real, as el camino real, amigo, we be
of one mind,
most of the time.

that our apartment unit B44
received thumbs up
meaning that we passed
the grueling, and harrowing yearly inspection
three days ago - May 28th, 2024.

About a week prior,
when notification circulated
(validating horror about to befall us
as averred courtesy the rumor mill)
courtesy requisite yearly inspection
property manager Kathleen Bergen
placed rolled up
printed one page important bulletin
in respective door handle
of each occupied apartment,
where an individual resident
or married couple - like us – lived),

yours truly and the missus
immediately sprung into action
whereby each of one our
separate nervous systems
underwent uncontrollable bouts
triggering violent expansion and contraction,
where we both made simultaneous
beeline for the bathroom
synonymous with severe bout
of irritable bowel syndrome.

Premonitory signals foretold
the approaching day of reckoning
vis a vis ominous hellish havoc
tell tale warnings since the beginning of time,
whereby frightful visitation
of inquisition videlicet triumvirate
would manifest headless horseman,
as a supernatural entity,
representing a past that never dies,
but always haunts the living.

“The headless horseman
supposedly seeks revenge—and a head—
which he thinks unfairly taken from him"
according to one Franz Potter
additionally equally as unwelcome
as one of the feared biblical plagues
id est: Some of these include:
(1) water turning into blood;
(2) frogs and arov (which arrived together;
arov supposedly originally meant

a mixture of creatures that came
to oppress the Egyptians
in the fourth round of the plagues
nobody knows any more,
but usually translated
as flies or wild animals);
(3) a swarm of locusts;
(4) a destructive hailstorm;
(5) an outbreak of cattle disease
(technically the text says “hail” again …

like totally obscuring
artificial or real illumination
hiding looming dark shadows
edging ever closer
portending, presaging, and pummeling
worse fate than death
rivaling close encounters of the third kind
outer limits of the twilight zone
monstrous sinister forbidding shapes
blotting sunlight plunging
highland manor apartment in total darkness.

Our rented one bedroom unit
b44 spruced up in ship shape,
thus me and the wife
cautiously optimistic figurative campers
worse case scenario
possibly find us forced to live in a tent
among bunch of other homeless people
along skidrow,
thus we felt fruitless effort to yield,
and appeal to top banana
who would love nothing better
than to witness mister and missus Harris
precariously perched on horns of dilemma

spurred me to posit supposition,
whereby sympathy for the devil witnesses
battle of pitched forks among towering inferno
greater likelihood versus wordsmith
unsuccessfully, nevertheless creatively
blindsiding anonymous readers
spellbound to empty ***** nilly
bajillions of dollars
from their pocketbooks
and mail blank checks to yours truly
before coming to their collective
sense and sensibility bound with
pride and prejudice.

Spouse of my eldest sister
marital bond fixed in place
strong as mortise and tenon,
he hales of hearty Irish stock
genes of said septuagenarian
analogous to pith and marrow
wrought courtesy divine providence.

At present aforementioned brother in law
recuperating after orthopedic surgeon
alleviated severe pain
NOT linkedin to damaged, injured,
and ossified rotator cuff
as initially surmised, nevertheless
temporarily forcing kinsman
to become a southpaw.

Thankful his insurance coverage
picked up what I imagine
to be a hefty tab to cover cost
of surgical spine procedure,
whereat the discs located
between the vertebrae C4 thru C7
were bulging and pressing significantly
into spinal cord nerves.

Three discs delicately removed
fragmented discs taken out tweezer like
and titanium pieces put in their place.

Months long physical therapy
will build back better
common Joe biden his time
to trump and amp up body electric.

Today (March 29th, 2024),
I recently spoke with Amelie
over the telephone
(the above referenced sibling
in first line of poem),
whose aura, charisma, dogma,
karma, and persona
fully yet unpretentiously regaling
her unbridled love
larding with emotional munificence
effecting, eliciting, embodying,
and exhibiting love in plain view
genuine care and concern
lavished toward him,
whom she pledged her troth
methinks more'n thirty five years ago.

As a longtime surveyor
for Gloucester County, New Jersey
he acquired familiarity
with tools of the trade
and truckload of skills to boot.

Prime years of his life
working hard schlepping, and positioning
moderately heavy duty equipment;
no doubt ofttimes
said weighty implements,
I imagine said paraphernalia routinely
being figuratively toted, lugged,
and dragged across all types of terrain
(while being exposed
to elements of nature)
making precise measurements
to determine property boundaries;

providing data relevant to features
of the Earth's surface,
such as shape and contour,
for engineering, mapmaking,
construction, and other purposes
back breaking physical labor
taxing his then robust
essentially got paid exerting
conditioning, and applying
his brute strength
courtesy the sweat of his brow
yielded laudatory results.

Exemplary track record
(as a career employee
acquiring well deserved promotions)
plus stellar report card
regarding characteristics of attendance,
performance, and punctuality
allowed, enabled and provided
current accumulated earned paid time off
countless months to recover from
major necessary operation
videlicet outstanding team of specialists
at prestigious Virtua Voorhees Hospital.

and still I feel infuriated at myself
concerning squandered funds
passively, senselessly, and willingly
surrendered nest egg
to computer hackers
(imposters, jackknifing, and liquidating)
coercing me to forfeit funds,
whereby yours truly (me) blindsided
thru convincing telephonic dialogue
witnessing unquestioned trust

I unquestioningly, unerringly, and unblinkingly
carried out instructions
essentially cadging, depleting, and exhausting,
checking and savings accounts (mine)
courtesy convincing scheme
yoking naïveté (mine)
with FAKE conspiratorial claims
Citizens Bank tellers
linkedin as thieving magpies
(twittering bird brain analogy

hatched courtesy yours truly – me)
once ridiculous ruse beak came obvious,
I never ceased
maligning self as half cracked egghead
repeatedly replaying telephonic scenario
only this time
with home grown perspicacity triumphant
and fraudsters, marauders, and usurpers
harangued, interrogated, and jailed
critiqued, maligned, and whipped
courtesy just law of the land.

Clear as day,
I still recall the bloke
who chose one alias
(probably quite a few
in his bag of tricks)
videlicet Harvey Specter,
he coaxed at least one poor sucker
(the writer of these words)
to fork over his life savings
without yours truly batting an eye,

whose gullibility now legion
among the posse of scoundrels
sharing the ease with which
money plucked out figurative fingers
(like taking candy from a child)
diminishing paucity of integrity,
increasing perspicacity of acuity,
where wool will never
be pulled over my eyes
(ewe can bet my bottom dollar)

against being fleeced,
and now a heightened awareness
a wretched costly life lesson
inflicting a painful financial contusion
additionally severely wrecking, pummeling,
and bruising psyche suddenly woke
keenly alert to the bad to the bone
doggone wicked wily weasel ways
of unrepentant rapscallions.

Outward slovenly appearance bespeaks volumes
wordsworth their weight in gold
(exhumed from the pith
of these lovely bones -
beclothed with mottled skin)
presages afterlife of hellish horror
(think Dante's inferno),
nevertheless a respite from earthly torture
wracking mein kampf since conception.

I lived without great expectations
diploid on an impossible mission
set in motion courtesy
triggered pleasure zones,
when natural propensity toward mortality
yielded mutual intense
or paroxysmal excitement
after unbridled love making
between then young parents of mine
approximately circa early/mid April
nineteen hundred and fifty eight.

Begot upon initial cleavage of two gametes
genetic fate decreed upon yours truly,
when nine months later a scrawny boy
traversed thru the birth canal uneventfully
into the hands of waiting obstetrician.

Mother placed me near her *****,
where I busted thru ample cleavage
nursed courtesy milk of human kindness
until she became high and dry
pacified scraggly baby,
who screamed at the top of his little lungs
possibly linked to submucous palate
split uvula - diagnosed years later
by specialist at Lancaster Cleft palate clinic.

Severe nasality as Aladdin in grade school
linkedin with extreme introvertedness
grist for the role as scapegoat
bully me pronounced
major inferiority complex prevailed.

Suicidal ideation throve
as unhealthy psychological bumper crop:
I cared not a whit for mine body, mind, and soul
negligent hygienic habits - unkempt appearance
abhorred cleanliness, greaseball outlier
videlicet witnessed infrequent visits
to bathing or showering facilities
let hair grow long and ratty, and shaggy
passive aggressive stance
toward family of origin members
sought refuge in mine bedroom
remained metaphorically hermetically sealed
until emerging adulthood
entrenched, fixated, and glued
to aforementioned behavioral traits.

Challenged, piqued, and
tested and tried patience of parents
passed their threshold of tolerance.

Overstayed welcome at 324 Level Road
at the receiving end of hollow ultimatums
browbeaten courtesy damning epithets
fueled glowering hatred, issuing kickass
brickbats, out the mouths of mommy dearest or
papa, silently internalized their vicious wrath.

Smoldering rage within me tamped down
as brilliant comeuppance
did not visit mother on her deathbed,
nevertheless wept profusely
while wailing "I love you" over the telephone,
and every May fourth -
since two thousand and five
crafted commemorative poems,
she always asked
for written acknowledgement
at the least remembering her birthday -
November thirteenth -
from second born and singular son.

No escape from
being called oppressive scatological names,
neither at home nor at school,
and including riding the bus
brutal, short and nasty invectives
assaulted my sensitive eardrums
of course with futility
impossible mission to deflect
blacked banal barbs,
whether besieging me

from so called wonderful,
albeit infuriated parents
continually wounding mine ego,
which pride of self never robust
subsequently such regular
(unleaded) cruelty outsourced to every ogre
witnessed an aggrieved boy
silently pained courtesy
whiplash of words accosting consciousness
submissively accepting battering

haranguing, poisoning, stinging
standing stockstill
forbearance vetting psyche,
the tragedy exhibited
by stoic facade and charade
generating absolute zero responsiveness
from an introverted
anxiety plagued youngster,
who grew up emotionally,
physically and spiritually stunted
scratching out pathetic poetry.

to repost poem
(I chanced to locate
amidst plethora of poems on hard drive
of Macbook Pro)
written more'n a half decade ago
before yours truly
blissfully oblivious to crypto-
currency shenanigans linked into

fiendish scammers after which
I (especially me button nose) didst glow
(giving Rudolph the red nosed reindeer
a run for his money)
whence rage,
on par with wrath of Khan,
whereby mine money
witnessed lightspeed outflow.

Thank dog, and cat,
no pet tee filed - late fee
incurred from this
sole heir, matted son
Avenue of Harris communiqué
to his youngest sister
busy as a queen bee,
her name mentioned
backwards solely for
wry ming sense – re:
garding Dunning-Harris Shari:

Not there need not
be any clear cut,
nor cloudy total
reason to bolster wee
kind fortitude to write
an email (albeit
with my characteristic
trademark rhyme) to invite
my own impetus to dash
off a friendly hello
in a gentle effort to unite

sibling camaraderie,
whether this material in question
profound or trite
with no pronoun
sub bull adverbial,
or adjectival intent,
and of course nada spite,
this exercise to compose,
whatever occurs within
mum mind quite
likely to concern

general circumstances,
rather than touch upon
any single plight
since, an easily educated guess
can paint (no Norman
Rockwell) framed palette,
(sans dystopian picture) outright
and despite whatever hardship,
with curtain call on this
then November 11th, 2018 night,
a flickr ring, instagram, and

kickstarter motive might
be fulfilling tummy,
that ever so quickly
the dimming light
(when the scythe lint
covered grim reaper)
perhaps attired as
21st century lgbtqia2s+
genderfluid non-binary knight,
the latter once
sip pawn a time...,

now he iz a
messenger simply bear
ring pleasant tidings,
and also an effort
to express, how
ye didst (aunt still do) care
(uncle Andy as well)
for Shana Punim,
who on a doable dare
to be doted upon, and offered
to go here, there,

and everywhere
experiencing a gamut of
eye opening globe trotting
(Watch out Harlem
basketball Boyz to men) hair
reed tailored, and swiftly styled
educational adventures
adding learning and zest
to life, liberty, and purrs
suit of feline doth wrest
good development

of character to invest
patterning herself after
exemplary guardians
sometimes you might
be feeling beat,
when embarking upon
latest electric kool aid acid test,
nonetheless, this
missive of gratitude,
where thee darling daughter
doth conquer one quest

after another
(principally attributed
to thee, who doth NEVER protest
obligations, but
launch with confidence,
whether feathering bed
videlicet the Gadshill nest,
or...furthering education keeping
body, mind, and spirit
sharpened as best
Yukon Mount attain.

to become affianced to the grim reaper,
who never promised me a rose garden
nor crystal clear pool of fragrant delight
to accompany last living breath
before succumbing into black hole sun
re: the void of nothingness
with absolute zero remembrance of things past.

Suicidal ideation in tandem
with purposelessness
(nihilistic existentialism exponentially
increasing since my halflife ago),
and most importantly
cursed with flat limp hair,
which serious crisis undermines reason
to write reasonable poetic expression
spurs the notion to traverse consciousness,
and painlessly segway
into the hereafter
(and maybe reincarnated into a heifer)
on a broken wing and a prayer.

No glorious notion of heaven
(nor belief in some omnipotent supreme creator,
who will be instrumental
uniting those meeting their demise)
with dead souls doth explain
zealousness toward what happens to human body
very soon after they – give up the ghost
(second person singular) and die,
yet intimation fostered
linkedin to dulling senses of mine,

that allow, enable,
and provide means to see or hear,
cuz already at threescore and five
revolutions clocked around the sun
post January thirteenth
two thousand and twenty four
increased insightfulness brings to mind,
a quickening uptick courtesy senescence
whereby aural and visual deterioration occur
at what appear faster clip

than when I happened to be younger
within the lovely bones of this sensate being,
who finds himself sensitive to loud sounds
discovered audiological test administered
hearing loss at extreme high and low ranges
similarly recognizing even the largest sized letters
on the Snellen eye chart
fraught with greater difficulty
particularly without wearing corrective eyewear.

After querying Google concerning a medical term for hearing loss of high and low frequencies, the closest response came back as follows.

While there isn't a single, universally accepted term for hearing loss affecting both high and low frequencies, it would typically be described as a "mixed frequency hearing loss" or "broadband hearing loss" on an audiogram, indicating significant hearing loss across a wide range of frequencies, including both high and low tones.

Before acquiescing to the afterlife,
I bolster maximum body, mind and spirit triage
aware declining senescence
affects physical, mental and spiritual well being
what fluke roll of the genetic dice throw
wrought yours truly (me),
whose latent potential
hijacked (to Cuba) thyself,
an anomaly sexagenarian

forever stunted socially courtesy
courting The Pale Horseman
when just a lad
of approximately a dozen years
of longevity since being born
thirteen days into
the first month of nineteen fifty nine,
when according
to most Western cultural interpretations,

being born on January 13, 1959,
would not be considered
particularly auspicious or unlucky;
it's simply a regular birthdate
with no inherent positive
or negative connotations
associated with it in mainstream beliefs.

Perhaps, cuz I (the male offspring
from both deceased parents,
especially my father –
the renown Chemist B.B. Harris,
and to a slightly lesser extent
the late culinary cuisine queen
Harmit Harms Kuritsky -
the gal whose troth he pledged
while holding some
bubbling sinister looking flask in hand
on their first guinea pig type date
encouraged incurred genetic yen
that burned from without the buns of this son)
possesses a pyromaniacal streak,
no surprise cremation would be my choice
of post life treatment videlicet
mine grateful dead as a doornail
cadaver formerly yours truly.

Believe it or not, a dead doornail is actually a thing. It's a medieval carpentry term for a nail that's been “clinched” — hammered into a door with any protruding part hammered flat. It wasn't going anywhere, making the doornail “dead” and unfit for future use.

as one fairly long run on sentence
unwittingly made locally famous
courtesy residents here at
Highland Manor Apartments
as first one foot and then the other
painstakingly, and agonizingly dragged
across the cement walkway
making absolutely sure
the entire foot touches the ground,
(analogous to geriatric

version of the hokey pokey)
made like toe tilly particularly
more trip lee dangerous for valley girls,
and posing an obvious challenge,
when unspecified oblivious tenant
yakking away to themselves
unknowingly shakily shambles,
(which elderly folk blindly
risking life and limb),
while tethered to an oxygen tank

gingerly, precariously, and zanily
maneuvers a walker or wheelchair
while chatting vis a vis bluetooth;
(a short-range
wireless technology standard
used for exchanging data
between fixed and mobile devices
over short distances and building
personal area networks:
In the most widely used mode,

transmission power
limited to 2.5 milliwatts,
giving it a very short range
of up to 10 metres)
communication maintained thru
miniature electronic paraphernalia
videlicet, now returning
to aforementioned abandoned,
harried, and suspended lodger
left poised to strike hard surface,

when going about their routine task
additionally rendered cumbersome
as occupant carefully finagles
old gnarled bent fingers
to manipulate requisite fob,
(a handy dandy little device
that works on Radio Frequency Identification
(RFID) triggered courtesy
waving or tapping motion
of little plastic doodad)

near a corresponding reader,
and voilá – the door unlocks, -
which technology interestingly enough
linkedin to bit of curious history,
when remote keyless entry patented
in 1981 by Paul Lipschultz,
who worked for Neimans,
(a supplier of security components
to the car industry) and developed
a number of

automotive security devices:
His electrically actuated lock system
could be controlled
by using a handheld fob
to stream infrared data
automatically, electronically,
inevitably, and officially
granting permission for our inhabitant,
or unsuspecting intruder
(since very little – read none

security installed here)
to enter the front door,
presenting an unwelcoming
opportunistic, idealistic,
and antagonistic accident
about to happen if the track opening
and closing entryway portal
(bumped up against thin carpeting)
slightly bunched up
presents a raised lipped surface edge

(barely perceptible to those
who present a sight for sore eyes),
which uneven impediment
the literal downfall
for many a resident
at Highland Manor Apartment,
who tripped and fell ofttimes
sustaining significant injuries
to their fragile lovely bones.

I (a lapsed milquetoast) experienced
a head splitting hellacious hangover.

I tried to be part of Cool And Gang by being "bad"
to the thoroughly good bone, er...
which trend followed me till man hood,
whereby this bloke still a cad
plus the most
embarrassing older hippy dad
where a shaved pierced pate egad
seems to be the latest fad
boot this nonestablishmentarian
feels more content with himself and glad
though as a precocious

whipper snapper of young lad
did act like "Curious George",
which found me late mum
and then octogenarian
widower father quite mad,
especially when breaking
into the liquor cabinet in me ***** pad
and nearly escaped by a scad
dad dull when the hide o me buttocks
whacked more'n a tad.

Though in a ******* party
rock n rolling crowd,
I (a kung foo fighter
beastie boy) felt alone
yea, as this chap looks back
on them daredevil days
(with behaviour bad to the bone
as iterated above),
and dealt with pounding in ma head
that caused me to groan
which mental sounds

of jack hammers
found this current teetotaler to moan
like the ghost of Marley or a whaler, whereby
even whisper down the alley
or over the phone
also affected me skin tone
to become altered
into an unstoppable
red bullish twilight zone
tortured courtesy MALEVOLENT MENTAL Maelstroms -
doggone hounded me while in a drunken stupor

videlicet - I taste a liquor never brewed (214)
courtesy Emily Dickinson
1830 –
1886
I taste a liquor never brewed –
From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of air – am I –
And Debauchee of Dew –
Reeling – thro' endless summer days –
From inns of molten Blue –
When "Landlords" turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove's door –
When Butterflies – renounce their "drams" –
I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats –
And Saints – to windows run –
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the – Sun!

Fiendish and gruesome
phantasmagoric egomaniacal denizens
dwelt deep inside
subterranean uber vault
performed an evil contra dance
haunted psychic landscape
with imaginary (yet realistic)
gargoyle visitations that cast a macabre trance
nocturnal unconscious invaders of the lost Ark
cavorted and gallivanted
disturbed quiescent sleep
with devilish and sinister prance.

Apparitions crept stealthily
into peaceful slumber receptacle
repository, whence illusory landscape of dreams
took place to rejuvenate
exhausted body, mind and spirit triage
rented asunder blissful sleep with a startled fright
cold sweat drenched
nighttime garments and bedding
teeth chattered uncontrollably
heart pounded loudly inside chest
nightmarish phantoms
wrought an awful ghoulish sight.

Mushroom cloud anniversary
triggered frenzied gargantuan hallucination
seventy nine plus years ago today
inauguration into atomic age took place
one country after another sought
to acquire demonic and destruction devices
to maintain self-preservation
in this surreal atomic weapons race
impossible mission to escape the dark threat
that looms and threatens life on earth
one launched missile
spells extermination across entire global space.

No escape from humankind military machines
munitions march mean madness
death by a thousand cuts
flesh deboned courtesy knife
and guaranteed demise to all life
**** sapiens violent history
of bias, intolerance and/or prejudice
characterizes vicious warfare
and chronic species strife
legacy for future,
(and perhaps alien) archeologists,
who will sift thru civilization
debris with delicate as birthing a newborn
with assistance by midwife.

Artifacts buried in a heap
of pulverized and radioactive ash
civilization monuments and hedonistic symbols
gone in a blinding brilliant flash
irksome flotsam and jetsam
spewed into outer space
alien nations light years distant
collect miniscule bits and pieces
offer object lesson as extinction
for beings that become excessively brash.

As a way to bury wounded knees,
free guilt sans
being psychologically trapped,
and wrath of my strict parents,
I imagined awaiting an eternity
for my modified sentence
against being secular humanist
individualist, minimalist, nihilist...,

no way to dodge
fiat decreeing penal solitude
for this rambling future man,
who felt unready to kick the can
on account of violating ban
against abominable illegal mandate
with no way to commute death sentence
for the simple act of voicing opinion

against existence of heavenly gate,
nor hellish underworld
despite religious ****** decreeing penance
spurious pedagogical poetic rant
not the ravings of some half mad lunatic
carefully plotted recitation that springs
from combined teachings of Kant
and jolly old Saint Nick

charges ******* up
per this average don
purportedly flagrantly
decrying and blaspheming
Judeo-Christian paradigm
proselytizing devout believers
with disenchantment blind faith no more
equated with hill of beans upon,

which dogma erected epitomized
by complex edifices via grime
sweat and tears from slave labor,
where usurpation of freedom won
until outspoken spokespersons
risked life and limb
to invalidate the existence
of supreme deity who created life

whether for extra credit
or perhaps on a whim
Adam from whose rib cage
without anesthesia but razor sharp knife
sported Eve with a physique
quite pleasing and trim,
but rather than get lost
in the garden of Eden myth

final seconds of existence tick away
without intent to recant statements
solely acceptable to B'nai B'rith
prompting last words of mine as oy vey
with no regrets - deeming heart
of religion flimsy as pith
thing in the wind or house of cards
vulnerable to blow away.

Though ma mum deceased nineteen and a half plus years ago, and thine papa inching closer toward the inescapable clutch of the grim reaper (when these words typed – he long since passed October 7th, 2020), I revel to be a conscious individual despite the torturous road from those perilous days of yore er rather mine earlier formative pages when the strong armed lance of ignorance jabbed me with toad dull ambivalence evolving from the fusion of two cells after froggy went a courtin.

HANDMADE FROM (the genes of) BOYCE AND HARRIET HARRIS -
(free versatile poetry my atypical mode (modus operandi) at describing, introducing, and decoding myself).

How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.

Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.

Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual.

The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.

I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.

Nonetheless, a sense of righteous vindictiveness manifested itself thru attendant Pyrrhic victories.

Back in those days I (a married grown adult male and considerably past the age of rebelling against authoritarianism - and also their one and only not so prodigal son) poorly wore the mantle and staff of supposed maturity.

Lack of compliance and obeisance with regulations and rules of the Harris household (mainly thru being in constant denial to conform, maintaining emotional detachment and estrangement and evincing little or no concern for other family members) brewed, festered and lied dormant during prepubescence.

The pressure and tension between and betwixt genetic kinfolk (so palpable one could sense an indomitable barrier), would rank as successfully dysfunctional way before such nom de guerre became in vogue.

Fury and wrath became markedly and noticeably pronounced once exiting the storied four walls of high school.

The venomous barrage and fusillade spewed forth from off parental tongues at an exponential rate and on a par to feeling the stinging cudgel of a horsewhip.

Out of fear and timidity, I consequently and silently absorbed cruel treatment.

Neither the eldest nor youngest sibling bore witness against the tender spirit of their only brother.

A façade as of a hardened (statue) conveniently adopted.

This embodiment poorly served to fend off the onslaught of incessant anger.

This defense mechanism (identified as passive aggressive by mom) offered miniscule protection as I mentally dodged lobbed insults and affected defiance (in league like poisoned blackened bards and daggers hurled) of said threats and ultimatums.

No matter these bitter pills of blaring character assassination (mine), denunciations, fulminations, incriminations, intimidations, vociferous vocalizations (by said parents), I stood the shifting sands characterizing my ground at playing the deaf mute, which repression and internalization of emotional maelstrom only caused self contamination and manifestation of humiliation.

They (dad and mom) became further angered and inflamed per my total oblivious stance.

This reaction added insult to injury.

Deliverance per tough love lessons amplified to the tune of additional feats at becoming excoriated, ranted and raved against this, that and the other of my habits and nonchalant indifference to pursue work.

Those involuntary, unrehearsed and vicious family chats happened to be replete with heavily exploding and uncorked anger.

That (of course) would be a considerable understatement.

Dad (the de facto, elected and nominal spokesperson for unpleasant chest thumping exclamations - which conveniently took place no earlier than the stroke of midnight - emphatically swore (adrip with dramatic livid rage - like rabid beast) all manner of vulgarity and demanded from this insolent appearing male offspring immediate compliance.

Defiance and fatigue offered him that predictable and usual blank stare upon hearing the kind and lenient sentence to pack bags and GET OUT!

With the dreaded approach of dire and sealed fate (played out in this overactive imagination of mine with dad and mom fiendishly and grotesquely expunging themselves of any last vestige personal belonging), I most anxiously bided my time.

Those next couple weeks forced self-evaluation of Atheism, while I hunkered down in my bedroom.

The recurrent consideration of relinquishing nonestablishmentarian paradigm in favor and lieu with God, miracles and salvation seemed to clash with being this liberal thinker.

As indicated, the tempest and tirade quickly got turned back upon those who so masterfully tormented this second born, whose steadfast stoicism and subservience to a higher power perchance brought a temporary respite.

That hollow deadline, (which happened to be just one of many similar sputtering swearing valuations of love) blithely came and went without incident - no matter expletive filled intense oath to remove self from premises at 324 Level Road) continued to keep pulsating to remain an occupant with kinfolk.

What caused especial ire and wrath to fester (per this apparent ambivalence, indifference and nonchalance for me to take any job - even shoveling **** - particularly within the emotional bedrock and firmament of deceased mother) constituted remembrance and vivid reminder of her father.

My maternal grandfather (Morris - Moshe - Kuritsky) supposedly never paid much heed to regular and steady employment (to support his four children and wife) despite his skill as a harried styled swift tailor.

Hence my mother (Harriet) grew up and lived in utter destitution and poverty.

Mother subsequently reacted with ferocious vindictiveness upon witnessing a near magic transformation of near identical behavior in Matthew - the single heir to the family name.

I avoid alcohol
yet still have a ball
when the bell of inquisitiveness doth call
this mindful male toward productive pursuits
rather than fall
prey to temptations of vice only deliver gall
down the unmarked hall
of future time,
as likened to evade the maul
from some ferocious beast
or an urgent plight to retch
ideally within a toilet stall
perhaps faded splattered by stains on the wall
of other anonymous imbibers - good day y'all.

He seeks (in tandem with the missus)
legal asylum in Canada...
New Brunswick, Newfoundland,
Nova Scotia, et cetera,
or any other socially
progressive European country,
and seriously ponders said scheme
to exit (stage door left) living social
within these United States,
when four score
plus days and seven minutes
from today November 19, 2024...

signals implementation of Project 2025:
Anyway said fantastical idea
to escape a worse fate
than the wrath of Kong
and dismemberment of vital
social security disability services I receive,
Medicare, and electronic benefit transfer  
videlicet an electronic system
that allows state welfare departments
to issue benefits
via a magnetically encoded payment card
used in the United States.

No matter above iterated illusory pipe dream
essentially offers absolute zero probability    
absent slim or fat chance
would find yours truly to plotz
if whimsical far fetched notion
constituting the stuff whet dreams are made -
namely how to expedite
spontaneous modus operandi to emigrate,
which initially materialized
(1003 days, 9 hours, and
32 minutes before 2024 election),
many months actually

more than a couple years before Trump
in league with Elon Musk took victory lap,
especially days before 2024 presidential election
swindled electorate by hook or crook,
one severely anxious American senior citizen,
now steels, girds, braces... himself,
while streaming media services
bridging, fording, navigating...
potential violent political malevolent maelstrom
in the offing since... Revolutionary War
finds nonestablishmentarian comfortably numb
currently sequestered within apartment unit b44.

Maybe good samaritan
would sponsor me
(affable wordsmith afflicted with anxiety)
and the loving wife,
I can imagine emigrating to the
second largest country in the world
on par with dying and being reborn
into idyllic and Edenic afterlife.

Lifelong Pennsylvania opportunistic resident
desirous to move away from capitalistic bust
mein kampf, a miserable existence
peppered, pockmarked, punctuated...
with adversity - subtracting instances
being exponentially nonplussed,
(which lifelong mental health
analogous to psychological rust)
leaves mine lovely bones
in (melancholy) dog I trust
eventually repurposed into ash

(since I will choose cremation)
an increasing eco-friendly choice,
cuz burial with casket and tombstone clash
with holistic humble paradigm,
but before transitioning into lifeless body,
an impetuous notion arises, a flash
in the pan far fetched whim
to craft reasonable rhyme
communicating intent to live abroad
amidst one of ten provinces

and three territories
constituting Canadian federation,
which genuine motive not emblematic
of huckster nor fraud,
nevertheless one run of the mill
garden variety **** sapien flawed
yet he aims to dwell with citizens who applaud
voluntary simplicity likened and linkedin
belonging and hallmark characteristics
kickstarted intentional community,

where self sufficiency touted,
and physical labor de rigueur,
which lifestyle change
would rank as welcome adjustment
versus housed within Highland Manor
a quite reasonable single bedroom facility
yet devoid of stimulation
enervating body, mind spirit triage
of one ordinary human
who finds himself a mystery

within terrestrial firmament
and frequently feels in a feverish pitch
as tempus fugit whips
him around the sun
at a furious dizzying speed,
while he tenuously grips
with blistered hands
gripping sharp outcropping,
meanwhile his spindle shank legs splayed
and sprawled haphazardly across
the bombed out war zone.

Rather than get further
bogged down with inane zeal
I best steer clear
of further poetic poppycock
courtesy imaginary wheel,
thus the following pablum I unveil
nsync with titled malady all to real,
which plight involves hyperhidrosis
quite a debilitating ordeal,

especially when thinking
to pursue gainful employment
emphatically steadfast
and honest think (me,
a foo fighting beastie boy) leal
course this humble poetic communiqué  
communicates (hyperbolically) embodiment
ideal if seeking to gain insight how I feel
about myself, a tense body
inept to perform handspring or cartwheel.

I prefer to craft a poem
for no rhyme nor reason
expressing heartfelt pleasure
to our highly refined palate
versus presenting tasty, yummy
and zesty nutritious snacks
exuberant feedback courtesy Tik Tok.

Aside from harkening from Semitic stock
me and the missus
relish those (Katz) gluten free pastries
they give us the oomph to rock
and similar to powder milk biscuits
give us strength to do what needs to be done.

Though no intention to mock
popular Pop-Tarts
(stylized as pop•tarts),
an American brand of toaster pastries
produced and distributed by Kellanova
(formerly Kellogg's) since 1964,
which consist of a sweet filling
sealed inside two layers of thin,
rectangular pastry crust.

In 2006, Mrs Katz decided
to transform the world
of gluten free snacking
for her celiac children.

Eighteen years later,
she retains firm stronghold
courtesy word of mouth watering
salivating (videlicet) Pavlovian
salutary, masterly, hardy,
deliciously crafted wholesome food
clinching dominant market share
analogous to stronghold ala deadbolt lock,
a recipe distributors attempt
to steal by hook or crook,

yet unable to break down fortified doors
after they loudly knock
on one occasion
holding the bakers on their break hostage
pointing culinary harmless
imitation edible Glock,
nevertheless drawing attention
of media camera crews that flock
for breaking shipping news
that harbor standoff

with quasi narco traffickers,
intent to rebrand and sell
Katz TOASTER PASTRIES
as mucked up poor quality dogs treats,
where special op forces
heavily guard the dock
maintaining vigilance around the clock,
to prevent goods held as contrabands
and subject pastry chefs to intense torture
forcing unsung heros

to stay awake 24/7 blindfolded,
so as not to see miscreants,
where ingredients of goodies
sniffed, sifted, and scrutinized
by sophisticated chemical analysis,
and thus I now conclude
contrived fictitious poetic scenario
to share such helpful feedback
in a little ditty composed ad hoc
can boost sales for your company.

by: matthew scott harris

regarding President elect
Donald John Trump.

As a cruel joke to self,
I imagined myself as a Republican
for that one glorious day
voting for the candidate
who clinched the nomination
as our next commander in chief
and still reeling in the heady years
when said unnamed person
graced the covers
of countless magazines,
(especially those hard copy publications
with a politically right bent),
and electronic mass media platforms
when one felt proud
being the sole pachyderm in the room.

Within mein hermitage
now dwells one
disheveled miserable
troglodyte with a pet gecko,
who wept a tearful river of joy
upon hearing unbelievable news,
(about a lucky man with panache,
whose ghost writer wannabe
yours truly would relish),
albeit at snail's pace schlepped

finally proclamation emancipation
gave reasonable rhyme
yours truly to *******
not prematurely,
subsequently I leapt
out the window
without a parachute
of penthouse suite apartment
into the air, and kept
myself aloft completing

one after another sumersault,
flapping vestigial wings
at the speed of sound and except
for minor nuisance of gravity,
nevertheless landed feet first and crept
a secret portal
back into mine man cave adept
to survive alone
in the wilderness
with pointers
from the late **** Proenekke.

Two hundred and ninety five electoral votes
in layman's terms 72,600,307 votes (50.9%)
tallied across country,
gave ample reason
to do the hustle videlicet
grinding hips and bump
with the missus
decked out as Wilma Flintstone
after Trump declared victory
in a brief trunk hated speech,
an excerpt taken
quoting his exact words
at the Palm Beach
convention center in Florida.

"I’ll be fighting for you, and with every breath in my body,” Trump told supporters who had gathered at Palm Beach County Convention Center to cheer him on. “I will not rest until we deliver the strong, safe and prosperous America that our children deserve and that you deserve.”

Admirable, (yet reviled)
teetotaler contender
who hailed from Queens
orating at above named venue
finally plopped and fizzed out,
whose non verbal
body language issued relief,
thus spoke volumes
after Kamala Harris formerly
deprecated, implicated, and prosecuted  

adequately bad mouthed
to curry distasteful impression
of freshly minted sexagenarian
fêted after his unrigged win
analogous to reeling
once in a lifetime
catch of the day
hook line, and sinker  
anchored courtesy Taj Mahal replica
nearly bankrupted him
into dustbin of history

good ciao electorate voted in
lovable loutish oaf,
which four years ago
majority of voters chose to dump
best mandated to cavort
with zoot suited frump
on any given Wednesday
available to ****
rotund barenaked lady merging
into humongous protoplasmic lump.

Despite being caught
red handed concerning
more'n where's the beef
burnished braggadocio brilliantly
stole 2016 election
under nose of Hillary Clinton
abused role, when tasked
as commander in chief,
nevertheless touted with bravado

courtesy totalitarian zealots
across the webbed wide world
good ole Charlie Brown nemesis
deportation apologist
causing nothing but good grief,
hence yours truly quite elated
upon occasion when figurative new leaf
turned over and booted out
as more daring than Baghdad thief.

Hit the ground running
with nary a second to waste
Donald Trump, when
Mike Pence and company at the helm
blindsided proving their steely eyed mettle
despite victory lap Democrats did taste
ushered in COVID-19 game plan
bolstering pandemic defences,
where prior administration sorely misplaced
priorities United States Lady Liberty
wantonly, undeservedly, subsequently
her reputation disgraced.

Hope springs eternal -
ah tis amazing grace
yours truly suddenly
brimming with optimism
able bodied diverse cabinet to erase
formerly inept sycophants
with intentions base
running amok within White House
at long last competent
candidate won the race,
this tatterdemalion doth welcome
ye back Donald Trump,
no matter pulled off disappearing act
at Mar-A-Lago without a trace
sore loser teed off absent American
delivering his humiliating
defeat coup de grâce.

Adieu after presenting façade  
gussied poetic opinion editorial
donning guise as antithetical braying donkey
failing miserably to convince readers
without the help of  “artificial intelligence”
I cannot succeed generating “fake news”
dressed up as a senseless rhyme.

lurks within the outer limits of cyberspace,
where dark shadows eclipse edge of night
indistinguishable from the twilight zone.

Within the Internet binary size weavers loom
shuttlecock whizzes (analogous to a bad mitten)
at speed of greased lightning warp speed
weaving courtesy electronic webbed wide world
snaring and snagging
poor schlemiel or schlimazel,
videlicet snazzy convincing culprit,
who gets figuratively sucker punched
courtesy malevolent scoundrels
(devoid of moral scruples)
to mimic legitimacy
subsequently scam without misgivings
(but exude untrammeled glee)
preying upon vulnerable particular populations
such as the elderly and infirm.

Victim services of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
helped me recoup one hundred Benjamins,
whereas gofundme page
(I jimmied up for myself)
wrought nary a handy dandy blues clues
restitution, and passage of time
failed to help me shake off loss
financial windfall garnered
from shifty eyed weasley wiseacres,
who managed to usurp without a hitch
manifold times more than a ***** dozen
designated dollar denomination
with President Grover Cleveland's face

and yours truly (me) continues to chide himself
for significant sucker punches
to solar plexus of mine
still smarting when analogous hackers
tricked the writer of these words
into zombified, hypnotized, bamboozled...
approximately seventeen plus months ago
when venal hucksters
hacked into Macbook Pro laptop,
an older model before purchasing current
MacBook Pro (Retina, 15-inch, Mid 2015)
and left absolute zero trace of their whereabouts
a fly by night scampering posse if thieves.

I think back to that diabolical
hectoring kafkaesque purgatory,
and replay the mental tape
before yours truly (me)
blindsided (even while wearing eyeglasses
that offered 20/20 insight),
nevertheless acting as if controlled remotely

behavior of mine at the mercy of one
who called himself Harvey Specter
(invariably he touted other pseudonyms
to avoid identification)
while he coached one after another
of his brainwashed subject
cursed like an automaton.

Argh! I decry being a "Dummkopf"
and stupidly followed gentle commands
to drive to the nearest ATM,
(which happens to be an MP gas station
located at 125 Gravel Pike,
Collegeville, PA 19426),
wherein I converted nearly
every last red cent
from Citizens Bank accounts
into  a kind of digital payment,
or cryptocurrency namely;

Bitcoin (the first decentralized cryptocurrency.

Nodes in the peer-to-peer bitcoin network verify transactions through cryptography and record them in a public distributed ledger, called a blockchain, without central oversight.

Consensus between nodes is achieved using a computationally intensive process based on proof of work, called mining, that secures the bitcoin blockchain. Mining consumes large quantities of electricity and has been criticized for its environmental impact.

After buzzfeeding
one large denominational bill after another
into the maw of the mute cash
banking my virtual wallet
also known as a digital wallet
bulged at the seams,
which constitutes software-based system
that stores payment information and allows users
to make purchases without physical cards or cash)
signed, sealed and delivered
to aforementioned scoundrel.

Nest egg of mine
(mostly lifetime monetary accumulation
of birthday or holiday gifts
scrupulously saved for dotage
of me and the missus)
mere chump change
of a crack (drug) dealer,
but never enough remaining years,
thus mein kampf forever
an impossible mission
to feel free and clear of penury,
cuz social security disability the saving grace
allowing, enabling and providing
fiscal ways and means
to avoid being homeless.